


Instinct & Emotion

by startyourbenjens



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Half Vulcan Marcus Kane, Human Abby, M/M, Pon Farr, Smut, Star Trek AU, The 100 (TV) Kink Meme, Vulcan Roan, alien sex?, implied/mentioned Kane/Roan, maybe some emotions in there too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-25 23:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18172583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startyourbenjens/pseuds/startyourbenjens
Summary: "This isn’t how pon farr works. This isn’t what his body needs but his soul craves it more than his next breath to feel her fall apart on his mouth, to taste the way she’ll soak into his skin. "Cross-posted from the 100kinkmeme. Star Trek AU featuring Marcus Kane as the half Vulcan Chief of Security and Abby Griffin, the Chief Medical Officer. Set loosely around the VOY/TNG/DS9 era. Smut with revealed feelings and mind melds.





	Instinct & Emotion

**Author's Note:**

> WE’RE GOING FULL STAR TREK TRASH HERE. There’s more than a dozen ways I could think of doing Kabby + Star Trek + Pon Farr but this is the one that started first. No set timeframe but presumably closer to the TNG/DS9/VOY era as there is use of the holodeck. Marcus is a half Vulcan (bc Vera Kane would never be a Vulcan). Other notes: Roan is a Vulcan and I play around with the different ways that Pon Farr can be resolved.

He hasn’t talked to her in three days.   
  
The last time they spoke he was in her Sickbay being treated for a sparring related injury he acquired in the holodeck with Roan. Their story was that they were strategizing on new away mission training guidelines for hostile situations.   
  
She hadn’t thought that a strategy session between two well-trained Vulcan officers could be so violent as to require medical attention but she had blotted away the forest green bruise from his forehead anyway. The dermal regenerator took quick care of repairing the damaged skin but it did nothing to answer her questions about how they could get so carried away as to result in injury.   
  
Roan sported a busted lip tended to by Jackson on the nearby bed. Fortunately the bruising that decorated his stomach was irritating but not threatening and something she recommended they let heal naturally as a reminder to be cautious even when testing new theories.   
  
Then he was gone.   
  
He cancelled their breakfast meeting in TonDC, the ship’s recreational center. He left her sitting there with Jasper Jordan giving her a sympathy cup of extra raktajino and nursing her own damaged ego. He bailed on their appointment in the holodeck where they had planned to see the two suns set on Eligius III on the evening of the new year, when they’re said to be the most beautiful.   
  
Abby tried to hide the hurt stemming from his absence and the curt way he brushed her aside at staff meetings. She tried to remind herself that Marcus did not  _owe_  her his time. Yes, they spent more time together than apart as of late. It was a natural course of being senior officers on the  _Arkadia_  that they would be able to share things with each other that they could not share with their subordinates.   
  
She didn’t realize how much she came to enjoy his companionship until it was gone. Even if he is a Vulcan.   
  
Or at least, a half Vulcan as she loved to remind him when he was being particularly stuffy and uptight. The tips of his ears would flush an emerald hue and one long brow would quirk in annoyed defiance at her jabs.   
  
It was an easy comfort she quietly depended on after so many years of barely being able to be in the same room with him. After the events of Sector 17, when Jake died and she and Clarke took a long time on Earth, away from Starfleet, it was unbearable to come back to work and see him on the crew manifest. She couldn’t see anything but the man who had been her husband’s friend, a piece of the life she no longer had. 

At first, they argued. Marcus claimed they were merely disagreements but Abby knew that the blush rising on his cheeks was a telling sign of victory.   
  
Then they argued but they had lunch too. Almost dying together in a Cardassian prison ship could do that to you, bring you closer together.   
  
Now they disagreed and they had dinner and made plans in the holodeck. He spoke to Clarke in video transmissions and assisted her with some of her assignments at the Academy. Against all odds, he became someone she depended on having around her. Abby found peace in being able to talk to someone who knew Jake, someone who remembered him like she did, someone who could talk about the good as well as the bad. Someone who remembered he was human and how very  _alive_  he had been. .   
  
Eventually, they stopped talking about Jake. The past didn’t seem to cling to their shoulders as much when life or death situations made them depend on each other.   
  
Today he sent a message to the captain stating that he would not be able to attend his shift but will have all reports completed for review within forty-eight hours.  
  
“Computer, locate Commander Kane.” Abby barked at the console in Sickbay.   
  
_‘Commander Kane is currently located in holodeck two.’_  
  
The privacy locks aren’t engaged when she arrives which seems both silly and out of place for Marcus. He always engages the locks regardless of the program he’s running. Not that she’s ever known him to run any program that would be considered  _risque_  but he holds to the Vulcan values of privacy. If he’s going to hide, Marcus Kane is better at it than this week attempt at seclusion.   
  
The door slides open with the soft  _whoosh_  and the heat overwhelms her instantly. Her boots land on soft sand, sinking her down a little into its depths.  
  
A figure moves quickly in the short distance before her.   
  
He doesn’t make any sounds when he trains. Soft exhales but there are no telling grunts of pain or heaves of energy when he moves with bare feet upon the sand. She takes a moment to stand there, watching him shift through these precise routines.   
  
His grey training shirt is clinging to the hard cuts of his edged body. This is a rigorous Vulcan method he’s attempted to teach her before until she succumbed to cheap Klingon tactics that had him landing on his back while she toppled over onto him. He was never this intense in those moments, never this  _focused_.  
  
“Marcus.”   
  
He bristles visibly at her interruption, whirling around to face her. The pristine lines of his naturally shaggy her, so defiantly  _un-Vulcan_  at their core, have fallen around his face.   
  
He nods at her but nothing more, merely acknowledges her presence. Abby squares her shoulders.   
  
“I have reserved this holodeck for another thirty one minutes, Doctor. If you require its use, I suggest you check the schedule for the next available session.” His shoulders straighten. Kane brushes his hair back with a slow run of his fingers to absolutely no avail.   
  
Sweat is beading on his forehead, running down his face into the growing beard on his cheeks. 

It’s never taken long for him to grow facial hair. They’ve been on away missions before that have gone awry and she’s seen him with nearly two week’s worth of stubble swathing his cheeks. She’s likes it. She’s made comment to him about it before, how well it frames his face. He blushed and commented on it’s distinct lack of purpose before being clean shaven again in two days afterward.   
  
This man in front of her hasn’t shaved in at least a week, possibly two.  
  
“I’m not here for the holodeck. I’m here for you, Marcus.” Abby steps closer to the training ring he has erected, arms folding across her chest. “You’ve cancelled on me twice this week and called out sick for your shift without any kind of medical follow up.”   
  
“I was not aware my actions were being so closely monitored.”   
  
For a Vulcan, he might be one of the worst she’s ever known at hiding his emotions.   
  
She can tell that he’s agitated by the purse of his lips, the tight line along his face, the way the cords in his neck stand out with the sweat falling down to settle on his collar.   
  
“You didn’t answer my question.”   
  
She steps toward him again.  
  
“You did not ask a question, Doctor. You merely made a statement of my activities.”   
  
Kane retreats two steps, his back inches from the wall. Abby tries not to think about how vulnerable this man is before her, with his bare feet and broad shoulders, no longer hidden by their thick uniforms.   
  
Abby chews her lips, frustration wishing she could reach out and shake him until he makes sense again. “You don’t normally address me as  _‘doctor’_  when it’s just us, Marcus.”   
  
One guilty brow raises but he doesn’t say anything.  _Another statement, not a question. Ugh._  She rolls her eyes and continues undeterred.   
  
“What’s wrong with you?”   
  
“Nothing that you should concern yourself with,  _Abby_.” She doesn’t like how forced he makes it sound to do something as simple as using her name. She can’t stand the effort he’s making to be casual with her.   
  
“Which means something  _is_  wrong but you don’t want to tell me what it is. Fine. If you can’t tell me, tell Jackson. Tell Niylah or Nyko but seek help, Marcus.”   
  
He has nowhere to go when she’s inches away from him. He stubbornly refuses to meet her gaze but Abby is just as headstrong. She’s there, forcing herself into his periphery. He tenses when she squeezes the muscles on his forearm. The warmth of the scenario he has chosen is starting to suffocate him.   
  
Abby draws her fingertips onto his wrist. He closes his eyes against the onslaught of sensation running an electric current up his arm. “You’re burning up, Marcus.”   
  
The tautness he holds, the self control is straining through his limbs. Marcus focuses on his breathing, on desperately trying to withhold the trembling agony wringing in his ears.   
  
“Abby, please.” He pleads with no luck, no mercy found. She keeps touching him, delicately sliding up his arms and across his chest and down to his abdomen where his heart is located. Two fingers drift along the pulse beating rapidly in his neck. She reaches higher, standing on the tips of her toes to brush his hair back again and press her hand against his forehead.   
  
She’s soft and cool and Marcus can’t breathe when she’s this close to him, touching him in ways she has no idea how it affects him. Her breath tickling his lips, her body pressing against him.   
  
Marcus  _breaks_.

She’s barely touched his forehead when her back hits the wall and his lips crash hard upon hers. Marcus keens into the kiss, the iron grip of his hands pinning her against the wall, arms on either side of her while his lips devour hers.   
  
She’s stunned for half a second.   
  
Marcus could easily overpower her. Not only is he more physically trained but he’s Vulcan and in his blood are the ancestors of hundreds of years of violence. There’s power in there, controlled, careful power. Strength that he’s never used on her until this exact moment, licking his tongue against hers, tasting the hot, sugary coffee she indulged in earlier.   
  
Abby pushes herself toward him and Marcus lets go, staggering back to stare at her. The way he looks at her, consuming her, seeing how every piece of him reacts to one, good, long, hot kiss is overwhelming her sense of propriety.  
  
This time, when he moves, she’s ready for him.   
  
Abby’s arms loop around his neck when he brushes a frantic path along her neck and her sides, her breasts down to her hips. He heaves her up in one smooth, effortless lift. She wraps her legs around his waist, hauling him directly against her.   
  
She’s known him for almost two decades and dimly she thinks she should feel different when she feels the the hard jut of his cock between her legs but all she can process is how many layers are still between them.   
  
Her pips land somewhere in the holographic floor when he buries himself into her neck, tongue tracing out the skin beneath her collar. Her nails rake hotly on the skin under his shirt. She can barely process if he’s hot to the touch or if it’s them, if it’s this moment and the heat bursting between them. Everywhere she touches him his body feels like it’s burning from the inside out, fire radiating into where they’re locked together.   
  
He’s burning her like the sun and she’s falling into him, wanton moaning into his mouth.   
  
Her jacket falls somewhere else, twisted off in haste as she hates to separate herself from him. The grey undershirt goes with it, tossed away into the warm sand. Marcus barely has a moment to sweep his tongue along the curve of her breasts when she’s scoring her nails up his torso, lifting his shirt over them to join her discarded garments.  
  
There’s no finesse, no time to remove her bra but Marcus makes do without, teasing the tip of tongue around its edge while she cradles his head and whines for more. He kisses the swell of each breast, nips sharply at the skin between, brushes hot breath on the quiver of her stomach beneath, drawing himself lower and lower.   
  
Her feet touch the ground and Marcus nuzzles the seam of her uniform pants.   
  
She’s  _soaked_  and he’s starving for her, dying to taste her.   
  
His thumbs hook into her belt loops, drawing down the crisp uniform slacks to fall loose around her ankles. The black, non-uniform standard silk panties she likes to wear beneath her uniform fall with them. Everything that was standing between them is kicked away into the distance. Abby glances down at Marcus on his knees before her, trembling to watch him as he takes her apart. A mop of tangled brown hair and his hands running up her legs, Marcus who can’t tear his eyes from bare, naked  _Abby_.   
  
He leans forward, cupping the backs of her thighs to draw her into him. He breathes in deeply, letting his heavy exhales kiss her cunt.   
  
Abby’s head falls back against the wall with an audible thud, the air stuck in her throat.   
  
Her nails tighten in his hair. 

Marcus growls with lips on the hood of her pussy, swiping once on the sensitive folds.   
  
She’s tangy and  _stars_ , so warm. He’s burning into ashes and she’s so warm and he didn’t know how much he would love her taste on his tongue. Adoration and ardor spread relief through his chest. He can finally breathe as long as he keeps touching her, keeps tasting her, keeps hearing her breathy sounds above his head and her hands don’t stop that delicious pull on the oversensitized lengths of his hair.   
  
Abby reaches her hands into his long, soft strands and Marcus flinches hard into her body, deeper between her legs, spreading her wide with a moan ripped from this throat directly into her cunt. The vibrations charge through her, arching her back, digging her nails tighter into the twisted locks he tries to keep so carefully tucked back.   
  
She tugs hard when he does something good and she curls her fingers around the thick waves when he does something really good. When he focuses on her clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, kissing it reverently and caressing it softly, she holds on like she might float out of her body any minute. When it’s too much and she can’t take it anymore, she drags him lower where he obliges happily.   
  
“Abby.” There are words falling from his lips in Vulcan, kissed into her thighs, nuzzled into her folds. She strokes where she had pulled, she caresses where she was frantic. Marcus groans into her over and over, endearments and filthy desires whispered in a sloppy langor upon her skin.   
  
“Don’t stop.” He begs and nuzzles himself closer, rubbing himself against the inside of her thigh. The high pointed curve of his ear tickles her skin. Goosebumps erupt along her spine.  
  
Oh, Abby realizes through the haze of staggering pleasure taking over her.  _His ears_. Of course.   
  
She doesn’t grab them directly. She continues her exploration through his hair, lingering when her palms tease the sensitive tips. She learns his responses, listening for the inhale and smiling when she’s able to bring him to a shuddering stop at the teasing stroke of her nail around the tip until Marcus is desperate enough to hitch one slender thigh over his shoulder. He dives in greedily, tongue gliding through the slick wet of her skin, savoring her in these long, thorough strokes. From that point on Abby doesn’t have the presence of mind to categorize anything because she’s gone, surrendered completely to the skillful way he manipulates her body.   
  
Marcus doesn’t show any signs of slowing down through the fire wracking his body or the throbbing ache between his own legs. He nuzzles deeper and deeper, dipping his tongue inside her. She screams and he stays there, drowning in the way she quiver on his mouth. Her nails scratch deep green lines into his shoulders.   
  
This isn’t how pon farr works, this isn’t what his body needs but his  _soul_  craves it more than his next breath to feel her fall apart on his mouth, to taste the way she’ll soak into his skin.   
  
His lips wrap around the swollen, wet bundle of nerves at the same moment two long fingers stretch inside her. Abby writhes beneath his onslaught, shuddering and twisting at the unbearably, impossibly good feeling of him moving inside her but she can’t get purchase on anything except for him. Her spine arcs, her breasts pushed out and he wishes he had taken the time to remove her bra. Wishes he could see her completely bare for him. He pistons and strokes inside her, fingers curling into her every time.

He tests a third digit teasing her drenched core. Abby is soaked onto his hand and he can hardly stand the anticipation of licking her clean from his fingers. Her body is pleading, longing for more or for relief, he’s not sure. But she keeps saying  _yes_  and  _more_  and  _fuck_  and it all goes straight to the thick cock throbbing between his legs.   
  
He feels when the shudders begin, when her thighs tremble. The crash is imminent and this time, there’s nothing he can do to stop it. She’s been shaking for so long and he is not so cruel as to torture her any longer. Marcus sucks hard on her clit and her heel, the one thrown of his shoulder, digs into his back as bliss takes over and the broken precipice slams into her entire body.   
  
Abby drifts in and out, white hot light blinding her, rolling her eyes back and Marcus won’t let her breathe. He doesn’t stop with the long strokes of the flat of his tongue, chasing every messy piece of her and thirsting for more. He sucks and laves and she spills onto his hand and his jaw and he licks her onto his lips.   
  
It happens again, softer this time, drawn out by the massage of his hand and the rumble of his deep voice encouraging her to  _please let go._    
  
“Marcus, please, come here..” She reaches for him, lazily trying to pull him back to kiss her again. Her body feels pliant and relaxed and so ready for more of him. She kisses him deeply, licking at the taste of herself in his mouth.   
  
“Mm,” she hums, pulling his bottom lip through her teeth. He likes her little bit of roughness with him. The way she’s never held back with him.  
  
And now he’s shaking under her hands, body poised and aching at the long days of restraint he’s been holding himself back. Abby feels feverish touching him, feels the intensity emanating from him. She smiles against his mouth. “You’re so  _warm_.”   
  
When she tries to kiss him again, Marcus doesn’t respond.   
  
That hot tension transforms beneath her hands. The man who was devouring her seconds ago, the one who was ready to draw her into his arms until they both collapsed boneless onto this sandy floor has drifted back inside the person he was when she opened the door. Frozen, hands locked on her naked waist.   
  
He steps back, staring at her in shock. Abby whines at the loss, bracing herself as she struggles to support herself on legs that are still trembling with aftershocks. She steadies at the panic in his eyes, the darkness of his gaze shifted from desire to fear.   
  
“I’m sorry, Abby.” He murmurs. That deep rasp of his voice is still there, the one that he had kissing Vulcan words between her legs. “Forgive me. I should not have-- I should leave.”   
  
His shirt is in a pile with hers. He grabs it and then, after a pause, hers too. He won’t look at her when he holds it out in offerance, can’t meet her gaze as the shock and the hurt begins to swallow her whole. Abby yanks it from his hands, pulling it quickly over her. She feels unbearably naked right now. Rejection stings smartly. Her chest feels heavy and everything is at war within her; how good it felt to be with him and how terrible it feels that he doesn’t seem to reciprocate.   
  
Marcus leaves before she finishes dressing and Abby is left alone in the makeshift Vulcan recreation, trembling and confused.

She debates hiding out in Sickbay for three whole seconds before turning on her heels and heading in the opposite direction.   
  
“What’s going on with Marcus?”   
  
Roan turns to her. He does that infuriatingly Vulcan thing to raise those stupid pointed eyebrows at her, that thing that is only mildly endearing on Marcus and incredibly condescending from anyone else.   
  
_Vulcans._  
  
Astrometrics is blessedly empty but Abby isn’t completely certain that would have stopped her at this point. Her body is running on a high, adrenaline and emotion propelling her forward.   
  
“Have you spoken to the commander about your concerns?” Roan turns his attention back to the scanners in front of him, fingers moving swiftly across the screen.   
  
“I tried.” She answers with as much emotional distance as she can muster. “He’s not talking so now I’m coming to you. I can’t treat him if I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”   
  
“If you have spoken to the commander and he has refused your assistance then there is nothing I may do to help you or Marcus, Doctor.”   
  
“Bullshit.”   
  
Roan stops. He straightens, clasping his hands behind his back and turns his attention to her again.   
  
“Do not mistake my intentions, Doctor. Were I able to assist Commander Kane, I would. However the matter is not something I may help with and if he is unwilling to accept your offer, it is best if we do not speak of it. His decision has been made.”   
  
Abby swears again. Roan remains as impassive as ever.   
  
“Fine!” She throws her hands up in defeat. “If he won’t tell me what’s wrong and you won’t help me, I’ll have to reach out to the Vulcan Science Academy. Maybe I can see if it’s something in his Starfleet Medical Records that headquarters can send me. I’ll find out who his previous physician was and maybe they will have some idea of what’s going on.”   
  
She turns on her heels, intending to storm out of the room but Roan is before her in an instant, Vulcan agility working to his favor to block her path to the doorway. She stops. It’s her turn to cock her head at him, daring him to get in her way.   
  
“That will not be necessary, Doctor, and if you are indeed his friend, you will spare him that...conversation.” Roan exhales, straightening his shoulders. “Marcus is experiencing the pon farr.”   
  
Her heart falls.  
  
As a medical profession she has  _heard_  of pon farr in the barest clinical sense of the term. For hundreds of years and still to this day Vulcans are incredibly tight-lipped about this natural, biological condition that affects every one of them without exception. She knows only that it occurs every seven years, knows that there is one  _typical_  method of resolving it but many Vulcans are able to endure without if they are properly equipped with the right...whatever they use.   
  
There is another part of the mystery. Starfleet has no records of the alternative methods of treating pon farr when their partner is not present.   
  
Which means that, whatever just happened in the holodeck was something purely physical. A response, a need based on some genetic inheritance and nothing more. She was close and she pushed his buttons until he gave in the only way he could.  
  
She chokes down the lump in her throat.   
  
“Without asking too many questions since I am aware this is a delicate subject,” she levels her stare at Roan. “How do we help him?”   
  
“We cannot.”   
  
“Bullshit.” 

Roan exhales heavily again.   
  
“Again, Doctor, you mistake my answers for reluctance to be of help. Kane has helped me in similar circumstances and I have offered to assist him as I have in the past. He declined.”   
  
She blinks, staring up at him. As they have in the  _past?_  
  
“How would you be able to help him?”   
  
Roan says nothing, merely stares at her with a look of subtle annoyance. Abby shakes it off. Another conversation for another day.   
  
“Okay. So the two of you have helped each other through this previously. Why won’t he accept your help now?”   
  
“He cannot.”   
  
“Why not?”   
  
“That is not for me to divulge, Doctor.”  
  
If she hadn’t sworn an oath all those years ago, she might strangle him.   
  
“Roan, if we can’t find a way to help him, Marcus could get really sick.”   
  
“He will die within the week if he does not complete the cycle.”  
  
Abby blanks.  _“What?”_  
  
“If he does not complete the pon farr requirements within eight days of the first symptoms, his body will begin to deteriorate rapidly. By my estimate, we are currently on day seven.”   
  
“Day seven!” She shouts at him, fury at Roan and Marcus and maybe a little at herself seeping into her tirade. “How could you have let him wait so long without seeking medical attention?”  
  
“The pon farr is a deeply private moment for Vulcans. It is not something to be cured by modern medicinal methods. It would not be appropriate if I were to break his trust by giving this information to you.”  
  
His face falls. It’s soft and subtle but it’s there in the sternness that normally controls him. Somewhere behind the stoicism there is concern for Marcus Kane. It might be touching if his life weren’t on the line with the next forty-eight hours.   
  
Abby storms out, angry and upset at Roan but mostly at Marcus. The goddamn fool who was going to let himself die because he was too stubborn to accept casual, life-saving sex.   
  
She doesn’t have to ask the computer where he is this time. After earlier, Marcus wouldn’t risk coming into contact with anyone else on the ship. He was  _lucky_  it was her. He was lucky it was his friend, someone who cares about him.   
  
Abby overrides his privacy lock with her medical passcode, barging into his chambers with arms crossed to face him.   
  
“I need to know what we’re dealing with here. You kissed me. I could be infected.”   
  
Marcus has showered and changed, an abbreviated version of the uniform standard. Black slacks and the standard grey undershirt. He’s fresh and clean but everything in his body still holds the same rigid restraint he left with earlier.   
  
He rises from his desk, palms flat on the open surface with tension knotted into his shoulders. The lines of his arms stand taut as he leans on them.   
  
“It’s not contagious.”   
  
“How do you know? You’re a Vulcan, not a doctor.” She snaps. Any compulsion she was feeling before about holding back the hurt she felt is rapidly slipping away. First, he has to live. Then they’ll work on repairing the damage that’s been done. Anything in between is just more to their history.   
  
“Fine.” Abby shrugs. “ I’ll reach out to the Vulcan Science Academy and my colleagues. If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to explain it to them.”   
  
“Stop.” 

The threat works as well on Marcus as it did on Roan. Except where Roan blocked her path, Marcus grabs her, spinning her to face him. Her hands clench to fists at her sides, yanking herself free from his grasp.   
  
She doesn’t know how they keep doing this, keep standing so close to each other. His eyes are still that same dark shade as earlier, almost black and completely unflinching from her attention.   
  
“Roan says he can’t help you this time.”   
  
Abby feels bitter success watching his eyes go wide and the sag in his shoulders. It lasts only a moment because then the intensity dissipates swiftly and defeat takes over him.   
  
He bows his head, turning his back to her. “You asked questions under a false pretense, then. I see you are already aware of my  _condition._ ”  
  
Abby nods, shifting closer to him. She’s cautious this time around, moreso than earlier. Careful not to push him too far if that’s not what he wants. She would reach out and touch him if it were any other night or any other illness. She would turn him back to her and push him until he takes his medicine and accepts her company. This time she’s gentle, all the anger drifting down beneath the surface and sympathy for her friend who could be dying right in front of her. ’“Why won’t you let him help you?”   
  
“He cannot.”   
  
She rolls her eyes. She’s getting really tired of that answer.   
  
“Why not?”   
  
“Because this condition is not only sex, Abby.” His fist slams on the desk and the console within sparks and sputters. She jumps at the sudden outburst. It strikes her that maybe she should be afraid but quickly dismisses it. His anguish is palpable, standing out in his veins but the Marcus Kane before her would never hurt her. “It’s mating and there is a difference.”  
  
“So you have to,” Abby searches for the right word, “...breed?”   
  
Something flutters in her stomach. Abby pushes the feeling down.   
  
“Not in that strict sense. Not anymore. Vulcan physiology once demanded it for that purpose but now it bears a greater...emotional significance.”   
  
“If he helped you before, I don’t understand why Roan can’t help you right now.”   
  
_Or anyone_ , she bites back.  
  
“There are evolutions of the condition as our species has developed. There are Vulcans who are not bonded in childhood as tradition typically dictates. I am such an exception. My mother found it distasteful to choose my mate for me. Without a bond to another, the condition could be treated in alternative methods.”  
  
Alternative methods meaning Roan. Roan or her or anyone.   
  
“So use an alternative method, Marcus. I’m sure Roan would help you again or others on the ship would be willing to assist you.”   
  
She can’t stop herself from touching him. She can’t stop herself from turning him gently to face her, hands reaching up on his shoulders. She’s so tired of touching him and feeling the trembling beneath her hands. Not like this.   
  
Marcus shakes his head.   
  
“I cannot explain it any more than I already have, Doctor. Please, allow me this peace. The meditation practices required right now are incredibly difficult in solitude.” He shrugs her hands away, retreating to the far wall. A meditation area is set up on the floor with candles waiting to be lit and a black robe draped over the chair next to it.   
  
“I cannot reach the peace required if you are here.” 

She wishes he would look at her, give her a chance before dismissing her. He’s barely talked to her in days, won’t meet her eyes when he speaks to her. The only time she could look into his face was earlier in the holodeck, watching him burn apart and bring her into the flames with him.   
  
_The only time_ , she thinks,  _was earlier…_  
  
“Roan can’t help you.”   
  
“That is correct.”   
  
Marcus doesn’t turn to look at her but she’s certain he cannot mistake the sound of her footsteps shuffling toward him..   
  
“You kissed me.”  
  
“...That is also correct.”   
  
“I can help you.”  
  
“No. Absolutely not.” Marcus turns to brush her away but she’s already too close to him. He can’t escape the way she watches him, the deep brown eyes that stare up at him. Abby’s heart flutters nervously and he can’t escape that either, the rapid pulse, the slightly undone zipper of her jacket that was never fully fixed from their previous tryst. When she burst on his tongue and Marcus thought he would die of the exquisite agony.   
  
“Are you really so stubborn that you’re willing to die rather than accept my help?” Abby’s confidence is disarming. He is dangerously aware of what she is offering and uncertain if he will be strong enough to resist it. “I thought we were past this, Marcus.”   
  
“We are.” He shakes his head. “Abby, I cannot ask that of you. You do not know what you are offering.”  
  
Abby reaches up and pulls her hair free of the ponytail it’s normally kept in. She runs her fingers through it, letting it wave and billow over her shoulders.   
  
Once, last year, he made mention of her hair. It was a slip, a moment of weakness before they joined the crew in the mess hall for a celebratory dinner after successful supply negotiations. She claimed it untamable and he called it  _lovely._  
  
“I’m offering to be there for someone I care about.”   
  
The boldness falters. The facade disappears when she waits for his response. He can see that she’s worried her lip today, chewed it through over and over. He longs to soothe it. She’s standing toe to toe with him.   
  
_“Abby.”_  Their foreheads pressed together but he cannot recall acquiescing to her presence. It happened in a blur, the slow shift of being utterly, helplessly drawn to her. If he was warm earlier he is an inferno right now. His entire body is trembling with the effort of restraint.   
  
“Show me.” She takes his hand in hers and he gasps, drawing in a breath. A shiver runs down his spine. “Show me, Marcus.”   
  
The kiss he drags her into his soft, Marcus cupping her face to draw her closer, Vulcan words whispered between long, slow tangles of his lips to hers.   
  
Her world lights on fire.   
  
She can feel his heartbeat like a burning rhythm seeping into her, consuming her. Warmth and desire and arousal flooding her bones and liquid pooling between her thighs.   
  
His hunger and hers, sweeping through her like lightning. It hits her all at once, intense and immersing her completely into him. The tangible world is lost to kissing and embracing and feeling everything he lets her feel. The real strength of his lust for her that is so much more than she could ever have dreamed. He wants her and badly. He wants her so much that it took every ounce of control he has not to touch her like he’s touching her right now. 

The inferno she experienced earlier feels like a warm tickle to the way she’s yearning for him now. Her thighs rub together, slick again, pussy drenched and eager.   
  
And somewhere between the fire and the want is something else. Something good and bright blanketing over everything else. The reason why he couldn’t simply accept Roan’s offer this time. The reason why he lost control before. The reason why she’s here right now.   
  
Abby sees herself reflected in his memories, sees herself smiling and laughing in the Mess Hall. Nights of recreation in the holodeck and long candlelit dinners that stretch late into the night. She sees herself doctoring him in the field, her hands bringing life back into him. She sees herself in his arms, limp and lifeless, his whispered pleas to bring her back.   
  
“Marcus.” Tears threaten to fall but when she’s starting to slip back to reality she realizes they already are, a few sliding down her cheeks at the enormity of his affection.   
  
“I’m sorry.” Marcus whispers.   
  
“I had no idea.” She reaches up, curling her hands into his hair. Marcus shudders and this type of trembling, this all-consuming desire, she may never get tired of feeling.   
  
He opens his eyes finally.   
  
“Didn’t you?”   
  
The world spins again and they’re brought back into his mind. The line between them is disappearing, becoming less real between what is him and what is her and what belongs to the world outside their own. The embers ignite around them. The mood shifts and memories transform to fantasy. There’s a desert around them and pyres burning but it’s only them together.   
  
She sees  _desires_. She sees wants and unfulfilled imaginations. She sees them together in the sparring room, the sweat pouring down their bodies as Abby attempts a move that lands her directly on top of him. She sees them together at a diplomatic function, tasting the succulent fruits of the Betazed gardens. She sees herself from his perspective, feels his thick swallow at watching the clear juice fall down her chin, the casual way she traces it with her finger before sucking it clean. She feels desire thrum between her legs in a way that is both hers and not.   
  
She sees them earlier today. She sees herself from his perspective, the jut of her breasts, the sound of her moans as he pushes her through orgasm after orgasm.   
  
Reality bursts into clarity and it’s lecherous, desperate moans filling his chambers. Now they’re really kissing and it’s so much better than earlier. He’s not frantic for release but hungry, hands roaming over her sides and thumbs that graze the side of her breasts and dance along the hem of her uniform.   
  
Now they’re back in his chambers and Abby is once again with her back against the wall and Marcus crushed completely against her.   
  
“Marcus.” She cries, feverish for everything she didn’t get earlier. She whines his name in the same way, that same high fervor she felt as he took her apart with his tongue fucking inside her. “ _Marcus!_ ”   
  
He stops, stepping back immediately for the second time that day. Stupid, stupid Vulcan idiot.   
  
“Stop thinking so much. Take me to bed.” She pulls him back to her by the collar of his shirt. “Fuck me, Marcus.”   
  
He succumbs happily. 

He’s on her instantly, moving with all the Vulcan strength and agility, crushing her against him. For a moment, they are a mirror of their former selves, those two people in the holodeck chasing relief without any idea of how really good it can be between them. Clothes fall off. She muffles a giggle into his shoulder when her pants knock over the unlit meditation candles in the corner.   
  
Her legs wrap around his waist, feeling perfectly in place with his mouth crashing hard against her own.   
  
Strong hands cup her ass, tugging at her panties until the fabric rips to tatters strewn somewhere in the distance. Abby shrieks, the air that felt impossibly hot before is now cool as it strikes her skin and gone when they collapse together on the soft Starfleet standard mattress.   
  
She can feel the same energy that he feels, can taste the intense need to have him filling her up inside her. They exist back in reality but that connection still sparks with every kiss. She can feel the fever burning him and she shivers too when she pulls his hair again.   
  
Desire is like a stream running from the tips of her fingers into his skin and washing itself back into their kisses. Her hands are everywhere on him, pulling him down closer as they grind against each other, desperate for friction and hungry for more.   
  
“Abby, please. I need more.” Marcus is so  _naked_. It happened in the shuffle and she had no time to really look at him before she was in his arms, feeling the length of him brush along her sensitive pussy.   
  
She’ll make up for it later. She’ still not sure of everything required to alleviate the symptoms of pon farr and suspects that it may take several more rounds to completely purge the condition from his system.   
  
Abby reaches her hand between them, wrapping her grip around him.  _Oh, yes._  She gasps, circling her fingers around as much of him as she can reach. God, he’s thick and with one slow, leisurely stroke she knows that he’s long too. Abby hasn’t had a proper lover in so long. Brief flings and toys but Marcus will be more than any of them.   
  
_More than Jake too._  
  
Marcus sputters atop her, breath choking out as she gives another exploratory stroke, circling the thick head.   
  
“Enough!”   
  
Her hands are wrenched away from him, pulled on either side of her head with the full force of his weight pressing down on her. Abby can’t move but she can feel the glide of his cock as it slips through her wetness to rest at her core.   
  
“Please, Marcus.” She kisses him with each word, desperately twisting her hips, begging for him to have mercy. “Don’t make me wait.”   
  
Every nerve in her body comes alive when he pushes himself halfway in on one hungry thrust. Growls and hot breath tickle against her throat where his head is buried into her skin.   
  
_‘Please, Marcus. Let me look at you..’_  She bites her lip against the plea. For an instant, she’s not sure if she spoke aloud because Marcus is instantly raising his head and the hot intensity of a dark brown gaze smoldered black bears down on her. He wants her so much and she cries out loud when he chooses that moment to move again, sliding in completely.   
  
Tears threaten to spill. He’s so big and she’s not sure she’s ever felt this full in all her life. 

“Abby.” He kisses her everywhere. Her shoulders and her jaw and the tender spot behind her ear that she’s never told anyone about. He’s so goddamn thick and she can’t move without feeling him somewhere inside her, aching and stretching her while she tries so hard to adjust to all that girth.   
  
Marcus tries to be patient but his entire being has been thrumming with the need for this exact moment for seven days, overriding all other sensations but the demand to be with her. “I can’t wait. I need to move. “   
  
She nods her head vigorously because oh stars and gods she can feel it too. She’s never needed to come so badly in her entire life. Each lithe muscle and supple tone is proned and curled with the intensity of how he stretches her apart inside her. There are no gentle first touches, no exploratory pulsing as they adjust to the feeling of being with someone else. Marcus can’t wait and Abby can’t bear the stillness. When he plants his knees and moves himself inside her its with the hunger that’s been building in his body for a week, waiting for her, craving her.   
  
She can feel every strained moment they shared when he was trying to hide how much he wanted to taste her lips or her breasts or splay her thighs wide while he devours her with her ass in the air.   
  
Abby can feel all of it with every powerful stroke, the heavy slap of him between her legs that will leave bruises painting her skin for days.   
  
His hands crush her wrists into the mattress and she whines and bucks, gasping against his lips for air and freedom that he won’t relinquish. His fingers drift along her wrist, feeling the pulse beneath them, grazing softly along her own until her laces them together and squeezes.   
  
Stars burst before her eyes, head thrown back as Abby comes for the third time that day.   
  
“How did you?” She tries to ask as she comes back to him. Marcus is still moving between her thighs, pulsing inside her with even more urgency than before. She has no time to breathe or recover because he’s already stoking that fire again, the need within him unslaked and growing impatient.   
  
“Vulcan erogenous zones.  _Yes, Abby_.” He loses his rhythm when she strains her wrist to touch his hands again, mirroring the way he touched her. She can feel i, can feel it building into something explosive. Can feel him and how all the desire and the want that strums on tight lines inside her core is only a fraction of the inferno tearing him apart. “Telepathic zones.”   
  
Marcus lets her go finally, tangling his hands into her hair. Whether it’s because he wanted to or she wanted him to, she wished he would let her touch him, Abby will have to explore later. Right now she reaches for him, arms winding around his neck and drawing him closer. Gone are the long, hard strokes to short, deep frenzied shudders as they press together. She tangles into his hair and teases along his ears and leaves clumsy kisses on any part of him she can reach.   
  
She can feel the missing pieces, the longer he goes, the more he strains and twists his hips to hit that special place inside her that makes her cry out against the bob of his adam’s apple that something isn’t right. He’s still holding back. 

“I can take it, Marcus. All of you.” Abby swipes her tongue on the length of his throat. She nips at his jaw and the lobe of his ear. “I want you.”   
  
By all the stars he’s never come this hard in his life and Abby is true to her word, taking all of him. She kisses him through it, first questing her tongue with his, teasing him forward and tasting him and her and the heat of them together on his breath. Then softer as he begins to fall, gentler as his body begins to sag and a sense of completion he’s never felt before begins to wash over him.   
  
She kisses the short hairs along his jaw, delicate touches where she was rough. “You’re heavier than you look.”   
  
“Forgive me, I will--”   
  
“Don’t,” she pulls him down as he attempts to extricate himself. “I didn’t say you had to move. Don’t. I like you right here.”   
  
“That is irrational.” He struggles with the words, panting heavily into the space between them. Every part of them is slick. She’s already thinking deliciously on the shower they’ll need to share later. His strength is shaky and his limbs are almost as liquid as hers. “I am too heavy for you.”  
  
“You’re not.” Abby brushes back the hair from his face, tracing the slight angle of his brows. His hair falls forward again, curling over his forehead. She twists her finger into it, letting it roll off slowly. She gently cups his face, drawing him to her for the first kiss that is tender and sweet between them. Marcus leans in to her immediately, resistance slipping away like water as he gives himself over to her.   
  
“You’re not too heavy, Marcus.” 

He succumbs like she knew he wanted to, because he just needed her to give him a reason to stay. He won’t accept being on top of her but he rolls them. Marcus tugs them clumsily beneath the sheets with Abby nestled into his shoulder. He jolts when she throws her leg over his waist again, spent cock twitching with interest. 

Marcus kisses her forehead, ignoring the impulse to analyze their situation. He takes comfort in her presence, accepts her affection and does his best to reciprocate. 

“I must apologize for my behavior. Before. I should not have left you.” 

Abby turns herself into his arms. His eyes flutter briefly at the contact shifting on sensitive nerves. She traces her nails along his lips. 

“Don’t do it again, Marcus. Whatever it is, you don't get to do that to me.” 

He nods and she settles herself into his embrace again. 

Marcus clears his throat. 

“It seems important, in light of current circumstances, to make you aware that this condition occurs every seven years.” He traces promises in Vulcan along her arm. He can feel her languor, her total surrender to being utterly debauched in his bed with him. “Yet I am not limited physically to that time frame.” 

Abby smirks into his shoulder. 

She’s already feeling the soreness in her thighs that takes her a second to adjust as she’s draped lazily on top of him. He massages them gently, tentatively gliding higher. Abby wriggles enough so that she’s completely on top of him and his hands have no choice but to land on her ass. 

“Good.” She traces the skin on his abdomen, drifting her hand lower where his Vulcan heart is located. His stomach flutters and there’s something else already stirring to life as well. “I have plans and they don’t involve waiting seven years to touch you again.” 

“That will not be necessary. As I stated, this condition only dictates a requirement at that time but does not preclude such activities when I am not under its influence.” 

“So what you’re saying is that I can have you at any time? Morning, night.” Marcus jolts when Abby circles one of his nipples with her tongue. “My lunch break?” 

Something is happening again, something she’ll have to ask him about later. Somewhere where she can feel his energy again, the spark and the fire coalescing until she can’t tell if it’s him or her who has been waiting for this exact opportunity. 

Marcus is a breathless voice somewhere above her head. 

“I would not be opposed to that arrangement.” 

She kisses the spot where his liver would be if he were human and she can feel his heartbeat flutter beneath her lips.

 


End file.
